stuck on you
by defiantly
Summary: there is a little blue haired girl who comes by the bookstore nearly every day; —gajeel/levy, modern au.


**__****.**

**_.stuck on you._**

___there is a little blue haired girl who comes by the bookstore nearly every day;_

**.**

_"__what did i do to get my mind stuck on you?"_

* * *

There is a little blue haired girl who comes by the bookstore nearly every day, rain or shine.

Gajeel isn't sure what to make of her.

She's not really his type, but Gajeel thinks she's pretty in a way that reminds him of porcelain — small and fragile. She's a tiny thing, a mere wisp of a girl, as if the slightest breeze could blow her away.

She devours books like she's starving; he's pretty sure he's never seen her with the same book twice. She reads a little of everything. Sometimes it's fiction, sometimes it's poetry, sometimes it's manga, but mostly it's horror and romance.

Not that he's noticed, or anything.

He finds himself glancing at the clock for the first time in the last ten minutes and frowns. The hour hand indicates that she should be here by now, but her usual corner remains empty.

He almost laughs when he realizes that yes, he has noticed, alright. Almost.

He doesn't even know her name, and yet here he is, awaiting her arrival like a schoolgirl with a crush. Not that he'd admit that particular fact to anyone. He's no better than _Juvia, _for fuck's sake.

He must be losing it; probably has a screw loose in his head or something.

Lily would have laughed and affirmed this, but Lily quit working at the Fairy Bookstore a couple months ago, and the only reason Gajeel hasn't ditched, too, is —

— not here yet, apparently. He heaves a sigh because he's caught himself anticipating her arrival yet again.

And oh, how Lily will laugh if he ever catches wind of this. Gajeel's wisely kept his mouth shut about the bookworm so far, but Lily has a bad habit of sticking his nose where it doesn't belong and it's only a matter of time before his friend discovers his secret. He'll never live this one down; Gajeel can almost hear the taunts of "You've got it bad!" ringing in his ears.

With a shudder, he puts the book he was reading down next to the register and sets about his usual chores: sorting and stacking the new arrivals, stocking the shelves, organizing the books in alphabetical order, and cleaning up the place. It doesn't take him long; it never does, and he's taken to reading in his spare time during the long, quiet hours of his shift. It's unlike him, to say the least, but it isn't like he has anything better to do. He figures he might as well do something productive, rather than staring blankly at a magazine or the wall.

The bookworm must really be subconsciously affecting him if he suddenly thinks _reading _of all things is productive, he thinks with a derisive snort.

The bell affixed to the shop's door jingles quietly, and Gajeel pauses where he is. A blast of cold air hits him from across the room as she walks in, boots thudding on the polished wood floor.

_Fucking finally._

It's a wonder this stupid store manages to stay afloat at all, with only an odd patron walking in every few hours or so. She's one of the only regulars.

Gajeel peers over the stack of books in his arms and grins despite himself because she looks absolutely ridiculous.

She's bundled up in several layers to ward off the cold. Her oversized winter coat swallows her, hanging down to her knees. The scarf coiled around her neck is pulled up so high it covers her mouth. All he can see of her face is flushed, rosy cheeks and a small red nose. In fact, if it weren't for the bright blue locks peeping out from under the knit cap on her head, he probably wouldn't have recognized her at all.

The book bag she carries over her shoulder easily dwarfs her; it's bigger than she is. She clutches several additional books in her arms that Gajeel assumes wouldn't fit in the bag itself, and he snorts and mutters something under his breath along the lines of small people using things that are much too big for them.

She spares him a glance, and then promptly heads to her usual nook and drops her book bag with a heavy _thud. _Sighing, she plops down on the comfy bench, crosses her legs, leans back against the window behind her, and rummages through her bag for a book and her iPod.

He catches himself openly staring and quickly averts his eyes, but he can't ignore her for long. Luckily, she's already much too distracted by her book to notice his gawking — not that he is, or anything. He's going soft, Gajeel grumbles to himself, and with one last irritated _tch, _he carries the books he'd forgotten he was holding to their intended aisle.

He rushes through the remainder of his duties after that, practically throwing books onto their respective shelves and carelessly stacking display paperbacks like towers. He nearly falls off a ladder with an armful of books and topples an entire bookshelf in his hurry to finish up, and he's nothing short of relieved when he finally takes his place behind the counter again (and all the bookshelves are still firmly in place). He groans in dismay as he surveys his handiwork; he's done such a sloppy job, he'll probably have to redo all of it tomorrow morning. _Oh well, _he thinks with a shrug and a roll of his eyes.

Gajeel sneaks another glance at her out of the corner of his eye and his lips quirk in an uncharacteristic smile. Despite the racket he's sure he made in his mad dash around the shop, the bookworm has yet to look up even once from her world of paper and ink.

He leans a cheek on an open palm, book forgotten, his gaze lingering a little too long. Her reading glasses perch high on the bridge of her nose and her head is buried in her book. He doesn't know what she's reading — he doesn't actually care — but he likes watching her read.

Her expressions are as open as the books she reads, and watching her is like watching the story unfold. He can tell the suspense is building because she starts to gnaw her lip unconsciously and her eyebrows knit together. Gajeel can tell shit has gone down when she mouths curse words under her breath and scowls, probably withut realizing she's doing it. He assumes the main hero or heroine has been saved when her anxious expression melts into relief. She sighs with a wistful smile on her face at the sappy romantic parts (she's a sucker for them, he can tell). She sniffles, scrunching her button nose to avoid letting the tears welling in her eyes fall; she must be reading the death of a character particularly dear to her.

His eyes widen in surprise when she shuts the book and sets it aside, getting up to stretch. Apparently, he was so absorbed that he didn't even notice how close she was to finishing her novel.

He shakes his head, takes a deep breath, and turns away.

Gajeel feels like a damn creep. Maybe he's spending a little bit too much time around Juvia (to be fair, the joint blame falls on both her and Lily — sharing an apartment with them was the worst decision _ever. _Seriously).

Still, though, it's somewhat endearing, the way she gets so worked up over a few words written on paper, although it baffles him at the same time. He's never been one for books, because he can't understand why anyone would want to read about places that don't exist and events that never happened. He much prefers reality over fantasy, even if reality can be a little dull. Like now.

The store is deserted — save for them two — and even if it is a little boring, Gajeel finds he likes the quiet atmosphere. He's never been much of a people person.

And maybe it's the consistent, almost rhythmic rustle of pages turning, or the steady hum of the heater, or possibly just him crashing from a caffeine high, but suddenly Gajeel's eyelids feel heavy. _Why is he so tired?_

He lets his head sink down and his eyes slide shut, inhaling deeply. He falls asleep thinking that he should _really _stop staying up until 5AM playing Grand Theft Auto V and Battlefield 4 and Skyrim when he has work the next morning.

The clock chimes, waking Gajeel from his nondescript dream, and he sits bolt upright. He rubs the heaviness from his eyes and runs a hand through his hair, feeling drowsier and shittier than usual. Blinking once, twice, he massages his stiff neck and looks around with eyes still bleary from sleep.

Vaguely he realizes that he's still at work and that he must have fallen asleep at some point. He's relieved to discover it's only seven. It's not the first time he's fallen asleep at work, and certainly not the last. Not a big deal. He doubts any customers came in anyway.

Groggily, he sets about closing up store for the night. Really, he wants to crawl into bed and sleep for twenty four hours straight; Gajeel can't remember the last time he was this tired, but he forces himself to lock up because if he doesn't, he'll have nobody else to blame when his ass gets fired. (Not that he'd really give a damn, or anything. He's been meaning to quit for weeks anyway).

He's about to turn off the lights and lock the door behind him when he notices something — or rather, some_one _— in his peripheral vision. There, curled up fast asleep with a book resting in her lap, is the shrimp, hat askew and clothing mussed. Suddenly wide awake, he grins, rolling his eyes in amusement, and plucks the book from her clutches. It's a book on ancient mythology, of dragons and heroes and gods and goddesses. It isn't one he recognizes, so he figures it's from her personal collection and places it in the open bag beside her.

He watches her for a minute, her tiny chest rising and falling as she breathes softly, and smiles at nothing in particular. God, he is _such_ a creep.

He's reluctant to wake her, but he really should be heading home, so he reaches out and shakes her gently. "Oi, shorty, wake up."

Gradually, her eyes flutter open, and she sits up and rubs her tired eyes. Her lips pull down at the corners in a frown as she glances around to regain her bearings. She blinks up at him, a blush staining her pale cheeks. He nearly smirks at her obvious embarrassment. "Did I fall asleep again?"

"Yeah," he mutters, suddenly embarrassed himself, and he looks away as she gets up and straightens her skirt.

"Sorry about this," she says as she packs up her things hurriedly, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "I must've lost track of time and fallen asleep."

"S'okay."

Tilting her head, she regards him closely for a moment before sticking out her hand with a smile, brown eyes wide and starlike. "I'm Levy. Levy McGarden."

He stares at her outstretched hand for a moment before tentatively reaching out and shaking it. Her hand is clean and soft and _small, _a stark contrast from his calloused hand that engulfs hers easily.

_Levy. _He says it in his mind a few times and then lets it silently roll off his tongue. It has a nice ring to it, and it suits her just fine. And now that he finally has a name to the face — after what, several months? — he won't pretend he's not just a tiny bit pleased.

"Gajeel Redfox," he replies gruffly.

She smiles up at him innocently, her hands clasped behind her back. "Nice to meet you, Gajeel."

Some part of him revels in the way she says his name, and he kicks himself inwardly. What in the actual _hell _is wrong with him? He doesn't even know her!

He almost jumps when a small, gloved hand curls around his, tugging him out the door with more force than he'd ever expect from her. She barely gives him enough time to lock the door behind him because then she's skipping down the sidewalk, pulling him in her wake.

"O-oi, shrimp, where are we going?"

She throws him a look over her shoulder, her smile radiant and her eyes twinkling. "I hope you like coffee!"

(And in that moment, he swears he'll drink coffee until he's blue in the face just to see her face light up like that again. He is _so _screwed.)

**—**

_fin._

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**notes:**

i wasn't really feeling this one, but a bookstore au for gajevy was way too good to pass up and i needed to get this out of my system before i could write anything else. i'll probably end up going back and making a lot of revisions because did i mention that i really don't like how this turned out? gajeel is super hard to write omfg.

on another note, i might end up turning this into a series of relatively short, interconnected oneshots (plot **— **who needs it?). depends on if i'm able to overcome my writer's block (laziness) or not, i guess we'll see. let me know if you'd be interested. song is stuck on you by new politics. credit once again to rboz on tumblr for the cover art!

drop me a review or favorite if you enjoyed? any and all feedback is definitely welcomed!

**disclaimer:** characters © hiro mashima


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